


Samhain

by Mythril (fantacination)



Series: #SheithWeek2k16 [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Best Friends, Established Relationship, M/M, Sheith Week 2016, Spoopy House, Spoopy owners, Supernatural Elements, domestic immortals, halloween fic, lowkey sheith, second chapter not so lowkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantacination/pseuds/Mythril
Summary: Day 7 : Free day/ListHalloween!The old, creaky house had always been here, at the edge of town. Nobody ever saw anyone going in or out, but the lights went on at night and you could hear voices and the sounds of someone-- or something-- moving. Occasionally, there were screams.Or: Hunk and Lance go trick-or-treating at the old house at the edge of town.





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t know, Lance, do we have to?” Hunk whined as they stared up at the spooky-looking house. The old, creaky building had always been here, at the edge of town. Nobody ever saw anyone going in or out, but the lights went on at night and you could hear voices and the sounds of someone-- or something-- moving. Occasionally, there were screams.

Someone  _ must _ live there, everyone said so. It was just one of those things, a quirk like how Old Sam’s truck continued to chug along every morning or Wilma from the ice cream shop’s inexplicable absentmindedness every few weeks. 

And Hunk was a science guy.  He loved chemistry and physics and engineering. Especially the edible kind. But something about this place made his hair stand on end. Everybody knew everybody here. Where did whoever lived in this house get their groceries? Their milk or their mail? Maybe they had high speed internet and no friends, but they  _ had _ to eat. 

“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, Hunk,” Lance scoffed, twirling the fake moustache he’d carefully applied to his face that afternoon. He was dressed as the updated version of Zorro, the dashing masked crusader, complete with a tinfoil sword. He’d been hoping to get Allura’s attention, but as always she’d been very shy and hid behind the large piles of returned books she was cataloguing at the library. His princess was such a demure flower, but one day she would be his. 

“Everyone always gets dared to knock on the door on Halloween. Remember when we were in fifth grade and Paul Stonewall nearly wet himself on the lawn?”

“Yeah, and nobody ever did,” Hunk reminded. 

“Which is why,” Lance continued smoothly, “this year we’re going to do it- we’ll be the first ones to see if there really is anyone in there. Everyone will want to talk to us. We’ll be  _ popular _ ,” Lance enthused. 

Hunk didn’t know if he wanted to be popular. If he had his pick, he kind of thought he’d rather be safe. 

“You know it hasn’t been that long since the last wild animal attack. And the missing people from outside town. And we’re not that far from the old cemetery and the woods from here,” Hunk pointed out.

“Hunk. My man. My bro.  _ Chill. _ It’s barely nine, we’ll walk up, knock, meet the folks, grab a selfie and head back out heroes. It’s foolproof. ” 

Lance squared his shoulders, though it was hard to see under the black cape he was wearing, and walked up the strangely well-kept driveway. It helped bolster his confidence. If they were  _ really _ creepy, they definitely wouldn’t care about their lawn, right? 

Plus, this year, unlike others, they’d actually set up lanterns on the grass. They weren’t exactly grinning pumpkins, but it was really almost festive.

Hunk crept along behind him, looking wildly at the shadows like it would gobble them up.

“Hunk, come on, you’re seriously freaking out over nothing here,” Lance told him, then shrieked when something flew low over their heads, hooting. He jumped at Hunk, clinging. 

“S-see, it’s just an owl, Hunk, you wuss,” he said, untangling himself from Hunk’s side. 

He ran the last few steps to the door, the wooden porch creaking ominously beneath even his slight weight. 

He cleared his throat. “Hello? Anyone in?” He knocked on the massive, mahogany wood door. It looked like real hardwood, too- from before that kind of thing wasn’t allowed anymore. He paused, then realized there was one of those old-fashioned brass knockers. He reached for it, only for the door to swing suddenly open.

Light flooded the porch. 

Lance jumped back. For all of what he’d said, he hadn’t actually  _ really _ thought that would work. He peeked from behind Hunk at the entryway. 

A slender figure was backlit against it. A guy, maybe a few years older than they were. He looked distinctly unimpressed, his features almost austere with the light behind him. But even like that, Lance could tell he was ridiculously good-looking. Was that the secret to this house? Celebrities hiding in a modest no-name town with their teenaged son? 

His clothes were a little strange, but on top of his black hair, someone had perched a pair of kitty ears. It didn’t go with the rest of his clothes- a mix of some kind of romance cover lace-up shirt and tight leather pants and boots. (He had sisters, okay? And they weren’t tidy.) 

“Yes?” Kitty-teen-Fabio prompted, after Lance and Hunk kept staring. He was holding a large platter piled high with small, white cakes, like cake donuts without holes, sprinkled with powdered sugar, but he made no move to offer them.

“Ah-ah--- Trick or Treat?” Lance asked. 

“Keith, did we get Trick or Treaters?” Another voice asked from further inside. 

“Yes. We did,” Keith grumbled. 

A man walked into view, carrying what looked to be an actual hollowed-out pumpkin the size of a life preserver, filled to the brim with brightly-wrapped candy.

“Here you go! First pick, nobody else’s been here yet,” he smiled, standing so close his hip cocked into ‘Keith’.

And if he’d thought Keith was good-looking, this guy was even more so. Tall and well-muscled, he had the proportions that most guys only hoped to achieve. He was wearing the same kind of kitty ears, too, but the rest of his outfit was more normal, a plain shirt with a leather jacket and jeans. There was a white streak in his hair and a scar across his nose that made the whole look somehow edgy. Maybe it was cosplay. 

“Go on. Don’t be scared of Keith, he’s a crabby old man but he won’t bite you,” the man promised, grinning broadly. He looked like he was at least five years older than Keith was.

Keith glared at the man. 

“Harmless,” the man continued to insist. “Go on, Keith,” he said, eyes dancing. “Show them your Halloween spirit.”

“It’s Samhain,” Keith grumbled. “And we’ve got better things to do.” 

“We practiced this,” the man reminded. 

Keith sighed and turned to Lance and Hunk, looking infinitely put upon. “Happy Halloween. Nyaa,” Keith growled, somehow managing to sound monotone. He had a set of fangs in, too. Good ones, by the look of them. 

The man beamed at him. 

Hunk timidly took a handful of chocolates from the pumpkin, Lance following suit.

“So, uh,” Lance began, taking his phone out. “D’you mind if we took a selfie on your porch?” he asked quickly, flicking the camera on.

“Don’t,” they both said immediately. All the playfulness had gone from the jacket-man’s demeanor. 

Lance opened his mouth-- he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. 

It didn’t matter. Something else filled the silence. 

A low howl tore through the air, followed by a wailing chorus.

“It’s coming,” Keith said, and where there had been a grumpy teenager, there was suddenly a weighted presence. He was so still, it didn’t look like he was breathing. 

He turned to the man, the strange presence dropping in a sudden flash of annoyance. “You and your harebrained plans.” 

“You boys better go now,” the man said, smiling at them both as calmly as if Keith had merely commented on the weather. 

“Wait- what? What were those howls? Is that a dog? Do you keep dogs here?” Lance asked in a panic. 

Hunk tugged at his sleeve. “Lance, let’s go. I want to go now,” he said. 

Lance could definitely get behind that. But he also still wanted proof. “Just one shot,” he insisted, he raised his phone and took the picture. The recorded sound of the shutter was swallowed in another burst of wails. And then a sudden chill pushed against their backs, like someone had suddenly opened the door to the world’s largest industrial freezer. 

“Come in, quickly,” Jacket guy said, pulling them both inside the house. Instantly the cold was gone, replaced by the heated warmth inside. 

Keith quickly set down the platter of cakes he’d held outside and pulled three jugs from behind the door, pushing them out, too. 

Then, he drew out a stick of what looked like chalk and drew sigils on the threshold, closing the door. 

There was a tense few seconds, then something crashed against the house, like a wave on land, the heavy door rattled in its frame. The howling was louder, but more indistinct, like a wind. The wailing reached a crescendo and then stopped, just as suddenly. 

“I-is it over?” Hunk asked, after a minute. 

“For now,” Keith said tersely. “Did you get it, Shiro?” 

‘Shiro’, formerly jacket guy, nodded. He was holding what looked like one of those old walkie-talkies, but silver and with two antennas jutting out. He hadn’t noticed, before, but one of his hands had a strange silver-black glove on it. Just the one hand. 

And that wasn’t the only weird thing. Now that Lance could look around properly, he realized the inside of the house was just as old as the outside, covered in faded but well-kept wallpaper and with wrought-iron lamps in sconces. Who even did that anymore. They even looked like they were actually lit, not electric. 

Spaced beneath the lamps were long steel bars and sticks of polished wood. Above what looked like the living room fireplace was a set of heavy jars in various shapes and two swords and two pistols, crossed and mounted. It looked really cool. But it wasn’t like this was the kind of town that hunted or held renaissance fairs. And the weapons were polished, hilt and handgrip noticeably worn.  

“So, uh. Nice place you got here…” He said uncertainly. 

Keith and Shiro shared a look, as though they’d forgotten they were there and now had to decide what to do with them. Lance kind of got that a lot. 

“They can’t stay here,” Keith said. 

“I’d like to go home. Definitely. Great idea. Can we go now? Please?” Hunk said, piping up. 

“Of course. Here, a little something for the trouble.” Shiro reached into the pumpkin and drew out two large handfuls of chocolate, dropping it into their buckets. 

“It should be safe outside. Keep to the lighted path and don’t look back,” the man instructed. He reached into his pocket and took something out- a small, hand-carved wooden charm, done in the design of knots. It kind of looked like something you might see at one of those new age accessory shops. 

“Take this, too.” He pressed it into Lance’s hand. His ungloved hand was reassuringly warm. 

Keith opened the door, admitting a burst of damp night air, but it was no colder than any other autumn evening. Outside, everything was normal. It was dark, but he could see the same path they walked on just a few minutes before. 

But on the porch, the plate of cakes was empty. The jugs were gone. 

Shiro put a hand each on their shoulders and ushered them outside. Numbly, Lance took a step. But there was nothing wrong. Perfectly ordinary porch, still creaky. Cemented driveway just beyond. They kept walking until they were past the gates. 

And then Lance couldn’t resist-- he turned back and looked.

The house was gone. 

“What-- Hunk, are you seeing this? It’s gone!” 

Hunk looked, too. “What’s gone?” 

Lance stared at him. “The house! The creepy old house we just went to! There were two guys and they gave us candy! Now it’s all just-- grass!” He waved at the empty lot.

Lance frowned. This was important. But why was it important? It felt like trying to remember a dream. Or the grocery list of things his mom wanted him to pick up on his way home from school. 

“Are you sure you aren’t talking about the other house we hit up? There’s nothing there, man, never has been. Who’d live all the way out here right next to the old cemetery?” He frowned. “What are  _ we _ doing out here? Mom is going to kill us if she finds out we walked this far out.” 

Lance followed Hunk back. “But-- but we’re not babies, we can walk a little further out if we want- it’s not like we’ll get lost,” he groused. His candy bag was a little heavier than he remembered it being, but that just meant he scored a lot of sweet, sweet loot tonight. Maybe he’d take some to Allura tomorrow- women loved chocolate, all his sisters seemed to agree. 

It was Halloween, the  _ best _ night of the year. Free candy and loot and there wasn’t any school tomorrow. He could sleepover at Hunk’s house and they’ll pig out on the candy while playing video games. 

He took a lot of pictures, too. He went through them all the next morning, sorting through the camera roll to pick out the best ones to upload to his facebook account. Then he came across one that was a little strange. 

At first, it was just another blurry shot, a curse of his keen, high-speed reflexes. His finger hovered over the delete button, then paused. 

His face was perfect, if a bit smudged, and he’d managed to get what looked like Hunk’s left shoulder in the frame. 

But behind them, there was a man, his face indistinct, and a swatch of colors of the inside of some house like someone had turned on depth of field and set blur to max. But the man didn’t look like any of the folks around town, even just from his silhouette. He’d remember a cool leather jacket like that. And he had the niggling feeling that there should be two. 

Well. It couldn’t be that important if he couldn’t remember it. Besides, his mustache was the slightest bit crooked in the shot. He deleted the photo and moved to the next. 

It had been a great Samhain.

Even if he wasn't sure why he'd thought that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue because there wasn't enough established sheith in the last one. Rating going up a bit, folks.

Keith took the plate in and closed the door, nicking a finger on a sharp fang and painting a small symbol on the mahogany in dark streaks. 

“I didn’t think it went that badly,” Shiro said. “We could’ve gotten a few more kids.” 

“We did what the witch asked,” Keith pointed out, tapping the silvery box in Shiro’s hand. 

Shiro set the device down and wrapped an arm around Keith’s slender waist. He could tell Keith was starting to work himself up to a sulk. “You can call her by her name, you know, you’ve known each other fifty years.” 

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have considered doing this charlatan’s game in the first place,” Keith grumbled. But he reached up and touched the ears on top of Shiro’s head, pressing them down so they bounded back up eagerly. 

Shiro smiled at the word choice, for the little slips that floated past Keith’s mouth, still, from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it had been the large chunk of time missing from Keith’s memories or the years of cohabitation with Shiro himself that had smoothened most of the odder words from Keith’s day-to-day vocabulary, but the little throwbacks, in that strange otherworldly accent, reminded him of the day they’d met long ago. Keith’s mind was as flexible as his body was. 

He pressed a quick kiss to Keith’s hair, then lower. “And you shouldn’t be doing seals with your blood. You did too many on the last job.” 

Keith tapped Shiro’s temples with his knuckles. “Don’t school me. Who was it that taught you how to do a ward without fainting?” He pulled away, walking to the kitchen to deposit the platter in its proper place. It was silver, and thus, very useful for certain times of the month. 

Shiro followed him, leaning on the remodeled counter in the kitchen and taking his jacket off. He felt more than saw Keith’s focus shift, sharpening on him. He grinned. 

“You’re insufferable,” Keith declared, confirming Shiro’s suspicion. 

“You’re just cranky because you’re hungry.” He pulled his shirt off. No use getting any spots on it. “Dinner is served. But you still have to keep the ears on.” 

“ _ Brat _ ,”Keith breathed, but he turned to face Shiro on the counter, framing him with his arms on either side, gripping the counter edge. In the shadow, his eyes faintly glowed. His fangs lengthened into lancing points, pressing gently against the softness of his lips. And Shiro was struck, as he was everyday, that this was his love. His partner. His forever. 

Keith’s mouth trailed along his skin, the fangs an unsheathed blade. He pressed kisses to his shoulders and neck, finding the marks left by other nights. Not every night. 

“Come on, didn’t you want a treat?” Shiro murmured, fingers tangling in Keith’s cool silken hair. He shouldn’t egg Keith on. Keith hardly needed it. His hand moved over Shiro’s back, drifting over the tattooed seals, and his mouth pressed against Shiro’s neck- twin points of pain blooming a second later. 

Shiro’s blood thrummed in his ears, but he calmed it with long practice, focusing on the feel of Keith’s lips, the apology in the caress of his hands down his side to his hips. 

It was a short meal. Keith’s tongue laved over the spot, sealing the bite. His lips come away stained red, his tongue lapping at the spill along Shiro’s skin with a deliberate hunger.

Shiro cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss that tasted copper. 

“Take it upstairs?” Shiro murmured, bracing himself for the way Keith’s arms, preternaturally strong, tighten around him. 

Keith’s smile was sharp. “And you call me hungry.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ~Happy Halloween~  
> So this is the buffy/spn-inspired mashup AU and probably if I ever continued it forward (there's a lot of events/history before they get to this semi-domestic point) Lance and Hunk will see them again. :')


End file.
